


we were stuck where we wanted to be

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: super self-indulgent tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7453564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro thinks about protecting, families, and everything in between. Keith's the one to sit down and talk about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we were stuck where we wanted to be

**Author's Note:**

> i tried not to write fic but this idea wouldn't leave my head so i have this now. i'm only a little bit sorry. un-beta'd so alll mistakes are mine.

He had always wanted a family as a kid, Shiro thinks sometimes during the sporadic quiet moments he has in the castle. (Is he still a kid? A teenager? Or was that stripped away from him too? Does youth count for much of anything after you've been battered, been broken and reformed?) A family to call his and only his, when all is said and done and his escapades in space were over. Something to bring home to his elderly parents one day with children fawning over grandparents and the warmth of _home_ burning in his chest. Not the cadets in the Garrison or watching Sam's family wave them off the morning of Kerberos' sendoff but something irrevocably and undeniably _his_.

Yeah, he had always wanted that.

So when Lance brushes off Shiro’s (justified, really) nagging on how _we couldn’t slack off on training, the worst could happen_ with an "Alright, alr _iiiii_ ght. I get it dad," and a huff, Shiro immediately retreats, pulling back his Galra arm as if burnt. Hunk and Pidge continue talking with Allura, though the corner of Pidge's mouth quirking up doesn't escape Shiro in the midst of it all. Keith, somewhere else in the room, mutters something that he doesn't catch. Only one thing really runs through Shiro's mind at the time: _dad. Family_.

The moment ends as quickly as it started. Lance is already pulling away from the conversation, irritation played up more for dramatic flair than genuine frustration. The conversations all continue on without them and when Shiro focuses back on reality–slowly but surely–Keith's watching from the doorway with a strange expression. It's almost enough for Shiro to ask what's wrong, but there's an exhaustion already hitting his bones, both mentally and physically and he moves on. Another time.

* * *

Where fighting used to be for survival (and in many ways, it still is – just not how he's used to), it morphs into a way for Shiro to clear his head. The muscle memory of blocking and provoking lingers on inside him. It is as much a part of him as the recurrent memories that come and go, of the phantom pains that he feels, of the pitiful faces of the dead and the missing. They stay in him and he utilizes them as much as any of the other paladins use their bayards. _Make the most out of a terrible situation_ , his father told him once. Shiro's half sure his father never imagined this happening to him.

It's with these thoughts in mind that he trains, his mind working overtime at the same time as his body. He barely catches the doors sliding open and would've missed the figure if he didn't jerk away to avoid a hit. It's the mullet and the crossed arms that he catches in brief glances that tip off Shiro off. The prickling sensation on his skin as he moves only tips him off more. In the lull of a fight, where Shiro's finally caught off guard and knocked on his feet (but _only_ for a moment, he swears), he sees Keith's expression clearly. The same strange expression from earlier is on Keith's face again, his eyes trained on Shiro's movements as his eyebrows are bunched together in clear thought. His body language reads impatience, Shiro knows that much by now. He mouths _are you alright?_ and Keith, perceptive despite it all, blinks back. "Yeah," he says out loud a beat later, tilting his head forward slightly. _Don't stop for me_.

And he doesn't. Shiro gets back on his feet, as he was raised and taught to, and keeps going. The small scrimmage only lasts a few more minutes though, until the simulated fighter swipes at him too close for comfort again. The prickling at his skin remains, lingering on. But that's _not_ it. He was taught not to mix emotions with fighting, with training. Of course, he's human and naturally reacts by emotion but that's beyond the point. This isn't about Keith.

Shiro only concedes after he aims a punch down the fighter's mid, knocking it back. "End training sequence," he grits out, eyes following it fall down to the floor. The simulation dissipates into glowing molecules, then fading away into the air until only the two of them are occupying the empty space.

The silence isn't uncomfortable. The two have been through too much now for it to be. They separated for so long now that their silence was as much as a part of them as their past is. It is as much a part of their dynamic as it is for Shiro to impart advice on him or for Keith to come back for him, despite the radio silence that has taken over the past two years. Not by choice though. Never by choice. They meet eyes momentarily, when Shiro tears his eyes away from the empty space where the simulation was. Keith's face stays mostly unchanged, an uncertainty in his eyes that Shiro's seen before, though only by chance. He can't comment on it, never one to poke at the wounds and the machinations of one's emotions like Allura or Coran could. With Keith, seeing vulnerability is a privilege, not a given.

"What's up?" Shiro eventually says as he moves towards the wall of the room, sitting down to rest his back against the wall. All he can do is ask an open ended question and hope for an answer. If not, well. Another day. Patience yields focus.

Keith opens his mouth momentarily before closing it again. He lets out an exasperated huff, breaking the silence. He’s already taking steps forward though, plopping down behind Shiro. "Did Lance annoy you before? Because of the dad thing." He knocks his head back against the wall, a frown forming again as he glances over at Shiro, deflecting. The look comes off as more childish than serious on his face and it almost makes Shiro laugh. Being around people like Sam's father and even the other pilots at the Garrison, who exuded authority and a worry that seemed integral to a parent (or any family member, really) were what showed Shiro the building blocks of being a leader, of being an adult. They were the ones that Shiro tried to imitate when he worried and attempted to lead the other paladins. To see Keith do the same is both amusing and saddening to him. It's in these small moments that Shiro remembers that at the end of the day, they were all only teenagers doing the best they could. He is just a teenager, forced to grow up too soon. He is not Sam’s father, he is not Coran. He is not a hero from the books his father read him. He is a boy. It's all too easy to forget that, facing Zarkon's destruction firsthand with his fragmented memories serving as reminders of worse times.

At the lack of an answer, Keith continues to speak, deadpanning "Lance's an impulsive idiot. He runs with the first thing that pops in his head." The insult comes with significantly less heat than it normally would had Lance been around. That in itself is more reassuring than any half-baked insult.

"Reminds me of someone I know," Shiro shoots back, grinning in spite of the overarching mood. Keith's noise of incredulity gets an actual laugh out of Shiro this time. He covers his mouth with his arm in a failed attempt to hide his amusement. It's after a few moments of choked laughter and Keith’s pout that Shiro eventually does drop his Galra arm. His grin fades, though not by much. "Besides, it wasn't him. He just...made me think. Families protect each other, right? Fathers–parents, children, they protect their own." His voice falters. His arm stares back at him, metallic and shining out of maintenance. "I couldn't do that." _How can I protect families if I can't protect my friends_ , he leaves out. Keith's expression reveal no answers and his frown only grows more pronounced in the following silence.

"I wouldn't really know much about family," Keith says slowly, avoiding Shiro's eyes. He remembers then: an isolated Keith among rows and rows of cadets. Words of _orphan_ , _prodigy_ , _wasted talent,_ _aggressive_ used to describe him on reports and in sporadic gossip between cadets. An apology's already forming in Shiro's mouth but Keith keeps on. "But. You tried, didn't you? The whole sacrifice to protect your crew shtick." The words come out more desperate than Keith means–probably–but Shiro still winces. "Yeah."

"Did it work?" Shiro's mouth twists in the silence. Keith doesn't wait for a response. "Voltron's about teamwork, right? Like all those weird exercises Allura made us do. You don't need to sacrifice yourself for our safety. You _can't_ , not when we're protecting you right back." He lets out a small sigh, stretching his hand out in front of him. A silence settles over them, comfortable and still. Keith turns to him, his frown replaced with something softer. "You said it yourself, families protect their own. It's not just parents or anything. So." _Let us protect you too,_ Keith leaves out as he lifts himself up from the floor, stretching his arm out. _Trust me._

Shiro stares back at him, gaze flickering from his hands to his eyes. For a moment, he opens his mouth slightly, no words coming to mind. Keith stays still, hand unhesitating in front of him, his smile small but present.

Exhaling out another laugh, soft and barely heard, Shiro takes Keith's hand in his. Keith's smile grows.

* * *

 

He has always wanted a family, Shiro thinks during dinner that day. One he could call irrevocably and undeniably his. Maybe he'll never find the nuclear family his parents believed in, and he'll never gain the two children or the small house. But he has this around him – he has the paladins, Allura, even Coran. He has this atmosphere, something loud and undeniably _them_. There's no silence, any kind of it is exchanged for Lance and Hunk's comments. For Keith's snappy comments and Allura's comments on the day. For Coran's extended explanations and excitement. In times of chaos and destruction surrounding so many lives, this is the constant. The friendly spats, the support associated with both crews and families. He gives all this, and receives it right back. All of them are less of a crew, like Sam and his father were with him, and more like a family, as unorthodox as it is.

And that's enough, Shiro thinks. That's more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this little thing! i hope you enjoyed this hot mess.


End file.
